Thomas snorts, one side of his lips quirking up in a momentary, half-humored in that sort of way that something's so sad it's reached the point of funny.
"Me too. Plus, anesthesia. And maybe some brain surgery."
He's pretty sure no one actually cut into his head, as he only woke up a moment or so later, and with no injuries around his head. But, really, if either of them have had their memories screwed up, let's be real - it's Thomas.
"2232." He says distantly, like a kind of trance. That's so far away from 1943. If that's really where they, somehow, sent him... God, he's impossibly far from the others. The thought that he'll never see any of his friends, even the few that survived it all, is sinking. like a pit opened up in his stomach and started draining everything from him.
It's when they reach the med bay that Thomas takes a moment to glance up and around at his surroundings again. There's a kneejerk feeling like his skin crawling when his eyes land on some of the things - the bed in particular, the syringes. He walks away from them, opting to drag a chair over instead, turning to sit with his chest towards the back of the chair. Given he's still in the clothes he went through the WICKED compound in, Steve ought to be able to see where the back of his shirt is ripped, the edges of it stained with blood, and beneath it, a long gash that looks like someone swiped him with a power saw. Which is... basically what happened. Not deep enough to have caused life threatening blood loss, though. "Knock yourself out."
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"Me too. Plus, anesthesia. And maybe some brain surgery."
He's pretty sure no one actually cut into his head, as he only woke up a moment or so later, and with no injuries around his head. But, really, if either of them have had their memories screwed up, let's be real - it's Thomas.
"2232." He says distantly, like a kind of trance. That's so far away from 1943. If that's really where they, somehow, sent him... God, he's impossibly far from the others. The thought that he'll never see any of his friends, even the few that survived it all, is sinking. like a pit opened up in his stomach and started draining everything from him.
It's when they reach the med bay that Thomas takes a moment to glance up and around at his surroundings again. There's a kneejerk feeling like his skin crawling when his eyes land on some of the things - the bed in particular, the syringes. He walks away from them, opting to drag a chair over instead, turning to sit with his chest towards the back of the chair. Given he's still in the clothes he went through the WICKED compound in, Steve ought to be able to see where the back of his shirt is ripped, the edges of it stained with blood, and beneath it, a long gash that looks like someone swiped him with a power saw. Which is... basically what happened. Not deep enough to have caused life threatening blood loss, though. "Knock yourself out."